Tomodachi
by kaliawai512
Summary: He left them, and he is starting to wonder if it cost him more than he has gained. Finally in the afterlife, Atem remembers, and reflects, and dares to think of what is to come. Post-canon. Non-romance.


**One of my first YuGiOh stories, "Boku no Kioku," is now the most highly-reviewed thing I've ever written. And now I'm _really _curious as to why. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed not only that but all of my works so far! I hope I can continue to write things you seem to enjoy reading.  
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**The idea for this one sprung from reading far too much immediate-post-canon fanfiction. I mean, the stuff's addictive, but it's horrendously depressing. So of course, I had to write one of my own, but after all the stuff I've written that goes into the experiences of Yuugi, Anzu, Ryou, and even Yuugi's **_**mother, **_**here's one from someone who was the subject of it all.**

**For the record, the ancient Egyptian view of the afterlife is a little bit odd and uncertain. But many sources say that it was essentially a continuation of life on earth, but with no pain and suffering. Everything was (apparently) perfect. Remember that little detail as you read.**

**Some of you might see hints of highly-interpretable Vaseshipping (Atem/Mana) in this piece. You're free to read whatever you like, but as with almost all of my work, this is completely non-romance. It's one of the shortest things I've written for this fandom, second only to "Birds," and much more contemplative. Think of it a bit like my story "Eien ni," if you've read that as well.**

**Side note: has anyone else ever thought about how strange it was that **_**no one **_**in ancient Egypt ever questioned Atem's hair (which seems to be **_**natural, **_**especially as I don't believe hair dye existed three thousand years ago)? I mean, his father clearly didn't have it, so where did it come from? So many ancient cultures would sometimes believe children who had **_**eye colors **_**different from their parents had been "replaced" by magical beings, and yet no one even looks twice at Atem? Just curious …**

**I hope you all enjoy, and pretty please leave a review when you're done reading! Really, I write because I love it, but reviews inspire me to actually **_**finish **_**my works and edit them to posting-quality.**

_Tomodachi_

Atem was home.

That was what he kept telling himself. That was what he pushed and pulled through his mind again and again, the thought, the _feeling. _That he was back where he belonged. Where he had been striving to get to for such a very long time.

But Atem wasn't a very good liar.

He had taken to walking through the halls of the palace, or what was apparently this place's version of the palace. He would listen, carefully, as his shoes tapped the floor, and he would notice that it was different from how it had been before. He would look at his surroundings, and the halls in which he walked were lit with what looked like sunlight. But if he looked out a window or went outside, he would see night, a cloudless sky with a perfect crescent moon and all the stars twinkling as if in a smile.

This place was different like that. There was no day or night. He wasn't even sure how long he had been here, really. It _felt _like half a day. Or maybe a full day. Maybe he had been here a month and he had just hadn't realized it yet.

… no. No, it had been much more recent. The faces were still so clear in his memories …

But for all he knew, in this place, they would always be that way.

He picked up his pace, not because he had anywhere to go—there were no deadlines here, no places to be, no obligations—but as another one of the tests he would conduct almost without realizing it. He slowed and quickened again. He walked so fast he almost broke into a run. But his legs never ached. His feet never hurt in his gold-laced slippers.

When he had been in Aibou's body, his legs would hurt when he ran. The air rushing into his lungs, burning them, but he had never cared. It had been life. It had been _real._

This wasn't real.

And, once again, pursing his lips, he reminded himself that Aibou _was not here, _and that was not about to change.

It had been a while since he had run into anyone. Another one of the odd quirks of this place: unless you were _looking _for someone, you rarely saw them. Perhaps a perk of the afterlife that allowed privacy when it was desired. He wondered how stable the palace really was, or if the walls shifted and floors moved in silent obedience whenever one of the occupants just wanted to walk without getting anywhere at all.

Or maybe everyone had just decided to give him some time alone.

There had been people when he arrived. Happiness, laughter, those smiling at him with faces he had not seen in such a long time—faces he had only just come to remember. Most of them just bowed and offered words of kindness and welcome, and though they would come close to him they would not come _too _close, as if those three-thousand-year-old rules never to lay hand on the pharaoh somehow still applied. As if there would be some punishment should they break it.

But there had been a few exceptions to the rule. Mahaad had placed a hand on his shoulder, standing taller than him as he always had, and Atem had picked out every similarity—and every difference—between him and the Black Magician. His father had come next, to wrap one arm around him and welcome him a little more like a lost member of the family, always wanted, always remembered.

Mana had quite literally pushed past the two and thrown herself at him, knocking him to the ground, the entire court staring as she squeezed the nonexistent life out of him, and he merely stayed there, staring at her, not sure whether to smile or see if he could breathe.

Yes, there had been good moments, too.

He had seen his mother, seen her when she was one of those he had never really met in his memory world. She had stood there for almost a minute with tears streaming down her face, before he opened his mouth to speak, and she cut him off with a hug that crushed him almost as much as Mana's had. Mana had laughed, despite the inappropriate situation to do so, and despite the looks she got, and Atem had just smiled at the woman who held him, and wondered if Aibou had ever had a time before he came when his mother would give him hugs, too.

He had seen Shimon and Shaada and Karim and Isis—similar enough to her modern-world counterpart, in his view, though he knew it would be her he would go to when he finally dared to wonder how it was that she was here and Ishizu was _there. _He had seen Set, and Set had given him a formal but real grin Atem had never had the chance to imagine seeing outside of his memories.

He almost had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from snorting when he imagined that grin on Kaiba.

He wanted to imagine that his legs were growing tired of walking. They did not ache, not a hint of pain or tiredness in the muscles. But he tried so very hard to imagine it, imagine he was walking around in a solid body, wearing that school uniform he found so cheesy and yet loved so much, instead of fine linens and gold jewelry. The gold was heavy, and the linen was loose, and the mantle over his shoulders did not feel as _right _as the uniform jacket.

Atem thought of going outside the palace, and sitting in the sunlight or the moonlight, though he had yet to decide which. Maybe it would change each time he went out, regardless of whether it was night or day in the real world. Maybe he would blink—even though he didn't need to blink—and it would change at his will, and he could go from watching the stars twinkle to the sun shine on a whim.

Maybe he would watch a thousand sunsets, every one of them perfect. Maybe he would watch a thousand rainstorms, and never get wet.

He closed his eyes for a moment in his own imagined need to block out the light like he had back in Aibou's body, shook his head, and started off for the first time with somewhere he wanted to go.

There had never been much time when he had been in his own memories to just observe, and see the daily lives of the people he had spent so many years with. The rest of his memories, the true ones, untainted by the shadow RPG, were already returning to him in the last faded fragments. Memories of his childhood, his early adolescence, and the days before he became pharaoh.

He could look back and see himself as he had been then, before he had known the modern world and all it carried, before he had built bonds he could never forget or destroy.

He wondered if that other version of him would have liked it here.

Here, he would have an eternity to learn the things about everyone who had lived in his former life he had never had the chance to learn before. He could look around and see it in every second, every tick of the nonexistent clock. He could see the bonds they had forged amongst each other.

He could see Isis's care for everyone, even those older than herself, and he could see how she smiled every time Mahaad walked past her, and how he had already noticed them sitting together outside when he had passed a window. Laughing, talking, as they had never had the chance to do in life.

He could see Set training with Aknadin when he passed the library, each learning from one another and coming to know their bond as father and son, a relationship they had never had the chance to build and one they had never really known. He could see his own father's pride when he looked at him, the warm love and firm command he had seen only glimpses of in his memories. He could see Shimon snickering at the jokes he told the guards that no one else found funny, and how he knew but never cared and told them anyway. He could see Mana practicing her magic in the courtyards, Mahaad occasionally dropping by to instruct her, or compliment her on her progress.

She didn't make so many mistakes here. And when she did they were only her own little fumbles. Never serious. Never damaging. Never permanent.

Perfect.

And the longer Atem looked at her, the more he saw the Black Magician Girl laughing and winking on the dueling arena. The more he saw the Black Magician, fighting by his side in battles of cards rather than lives. The more he saw Shaadi exploring his mind, confidence turned to uncertainty and caution, and the more he saw Ishizu, so young and yet still so wise, explaining everything in the museum, and the more he saw someone he could not quite name but was so very familiar in Karim—and the longer he looked the clearer it became.

The more he saw Jii-chan speaking proudly of his priceless Exodia cards and his new pride in his grandson behind the counter of the shop. The more he saw Kaiba that day after school and in the midst of tournaments, stealing the Blue-Eyes and fighting unfair battles and caring far too much about winning.

On those days when he was just the other Yuugi, the other part of Aibou, and they fought together without care for who they had been or who they had to become. They lived, every day of their lives, together, with the promise and the wish that they could always remain that way.

Atem bit his lip so much it might have hurt if pain had existed here at all.

The doorway appeared to his right when it had certainly not been there before. But he did not even blink when he saw it, for he did not need to blink, and it did not surprise him. He peered in, and stepped with steps that no longer tried to offer caution. For there was no need for caution in this place. All was perfect, all was inhumanly perfect. No danger. No surprise.

He stepped into the room, and he saw his own chamber. The one he had inherited when he became pharaoh, the one that had been his father's before him, the one that he had hardly had time to get used to before he no longer needed to use it. The bed with the canopy near the center, and the scarce decorations around the edges, and the light that streamed in from no particular source, with the balcony on the opposite wall that he knew would show stars and a moon in a moment if he wished it, or a cloudless sunny day the next.

He imagined, as he sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the perfect cushions underneath him and how there was not the slightest ruffle or squeak from the bed upon his weight, that Jounouchi-kun would have liked the choice of having a sun anytime he wished. It could be summer, or it could be winter, though snow in Egypt might make a few of the priests anxious and confused. Jounouchi-kun would have loved to make it a bright sunny day all the time, so he could swim in the Nile and never get sunburned and never have to come inside.

Honda-kun would have liked to make it spring or fall, and plant some trees that would grow at his command so the leaves would blossom then fall, blossom then fall, and he could play in the leaves like he had once mentioned he had done as a young child. Anzu would have liked snow the perfect temperature, just enough so a lake would freeze and she could practice dancing on ice-skates.

And Aibou would have just liked to sit inside and watched the sun rise and set each day, watching the future approach and the past fade, seeing the hope and joy of what was to come and always viewing each new day as one more chance to make things right.

To make everything better and sent to rest, just as he had been chosen to do for Atem.

And just as he had done as he stood on the other side of that platform, strong and ready, eyes shimmering with happiness and sadness, the pride of Atem in every way.

The first tear dripped onto the back of his hand without him even noticing it on his cheek, and he watched it as it glimmered, shining, onto one of the gold rings on his finger. The tear wasn't the same as when he had cried in Aibou's body. It was a perfect tear, all perfect, and it did not hurt when he drew in a trembling breath and felt another tear follow the first.

He twitched his fingers as the tears fell onto them, and the gold decorating his hands gleamed. He gripped one hand with the other, wanting to pull off the rings and armbands, tear them from his body. They weren't him. Not as he had been for so long. Not as he had grown so used to feeling.

There were no black shirts and navy jackets and dark fitted pants and boots here to wear. There were no buckle collars to fit around his neck in place of the golden band. There were no thick metal wristbands that always weighed down when he went to draw a card, but which always felt so natural, made him feel as if that was where he belonged, and that there he would always stay.

He cursed himself the more shaking breaths he drew in. He cursed himself in every way for crying as he gained all he had ever worked for. He had come home. He had his name. He had his family. He had his memories. He had the life he had left three thousand years ago, the life that had once seemed so impossible and far away.

So didn't that mean he should be happy?

His shoulders tightened. It didn't hurt, though he wanted it to. His whole body stiffened and he curled into himself, gripping his own arms and trying to quiet his breathing. The bed did not squeak under him, nor did the sheets feel anything other than perfectly soft and new. The tears did not stain them, nor did they make a mark on the linen of his clothes. Even if he tore the cloth himself, he would just need to look away and back to see it mended yet again.

Atem breathed in and out, and each breath trembled. Silence, almost in his own ears, as he gripped himself tighter and wished for all he knew could never be true. He saw faces racing through his mind, memories of battles fought and won and lost and memories of trials and imperfections. He saw smiles and laughter and kindness when he had known none in his life.

And he saw the grinning face of a boy with big, gleaming violet eyes, a laugh like a child, growing up faster than Atem could even see. Growing up far away and out of sight.

Atem froze and nearly fell forward off the bed when he felt a warm, thin arm snake around his shoulders and rest its hand near his neck. He kept his eyes wide open, staring at the ground, but he did not fight when the arm pulled him closer to an equally warm person to rest his head on their shoulder.

He did not look up, and he did not try to guess who was there. But he felt the ruffled fabric near the bare shoulder, and he heard the soft breathing even when no one here needed to breathe. He heard the familiar voice that was still so unfamiliar and new, and he did not fight against her when she held him tighter still, with that one arm, even when both of them knew this broke every rule of how king and servant were supposed to be.

"When I came here," she whispered, and for a long time she paused, and he wondered if perhaps she had forgotten what she was going to say. He heard her breathing and his mix and meld, the only difference between them that his still shook with each breath. She sighed, very quiet. "I had never realized it before. Not _really. _That … that you really wouldn't be here. That you were stuck, back in the living world."

Atem didn't say anything. When she moved him a little nearer so his head settled in full on her shoulder, he let her, and he imagined that the warmth they shared, the warmth of a friend near, wasn't so perfect. That it was messy and new and always changing, like with Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun and Anzu. That it was never the same. That it was always different.

She breathed in, and he thought, _thought, _he heard her giggle. "It was a pretty silly way to spend my first day here. I mean, you're supposed to be at peace, but some people … it's too much for them to take, at first."

He did not part his lips to respond. He stared at the ground in front of them, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her swinging her oversized boots back and forth on her feet, like a little child that even now refused to fully grow up.

"It was … hard for me. You'd been gone for so long, and I really thought I might see you again. They'd already told me I wouldn't. But I _thought._"

It ached, somehow, deep within him, to hear the real pain in her voice. It was also somehow comforting to hear pain here. Not perfection. Something true, that he had grown so used to, something that even if it wasn't pleasant, he could never forget and never stop attaching to the world to which he had long been bound.

Mana was silent for a long time after that. He could feel her next to him, feel her loosen her grip on his shoulder but then tighten it again as if remembering that she had come there to comfort him, not the other way around. He almost smiled at that, smiled at how she still held him. She was the first and last person he had thought would come.

Though when he really thought of it, he hadn't thought anyone would come here at all.

Not to comfort the pharaoh, who was always supposed to be strong.

"When I'd been here for a while," she started again, louder this time, and he felt her lift her head toward the ceiling. "Priestess Isis told me something. It changed everything."

Atem wanted to look up at her. He nearly did. He shifted his head and he felt her start to let him go, but then he stopped and lowered his head back to her shoulder. He wasn't ready to look at her. Not yet. He couldn't see her face, couldn't let her see his.

He could sense her quiet smile. "I found out … that I could still watch over you."

He froze where he was, and his eyes, which had finally started to go soft as his breaths stopped their trembling and he finally started to feel the calm settle within him. He still stared at the floor, but he knew she had noticed him, for he felt her grip grow tighter still around his shoulders. Any inhibitions she had once had about treating him like a friend, like someone she _could _care for, instead of some almighty king, had gone and fled a long time ago, he was sure. Now, unlike some of the others, she saw him as him.

A spirit lost for thousands of years who had just been torn from the only world he had known for all the time he had ever been able to remember, up until such a short time ago.

Mana sighed again, but this time, it carried not a hint of sadness.

"It took a while." Her voice held a mixture of emotions he couldn't read. "To figure it out, I mean. It's not something you can just _do, _you have to learn. And you were in the Pendant—Puzzle, sorry, I guess it's 'Puzzle' now—so I couldn't _really _see you. But I figured it out."

He shifted his head against her, and he waited when she paused. He could feel her looking down at him, moving her own head just so she could try to see him. He still did not look up, but this time, he very much wanted to. He could sense her smiling.

"Then when that sweet boy freed you … 'Yuugi,' yes, Yuugi …"

Atem flinched at the name and swallowed the remainders of the tears which still threatened to spill.

"… you didn't remember any of us. I knew you wouldn't, not for a long time, you start understanding stuff like that after you're here for a while. But … I always watched over you after that. Even if you couldn't see me or hear me. I was always there, trying to make sure you were okay. And … you _were._"

He did not try to stop himself this time when he shifted his head, and this time, he moved it enough so he could finally see her face.

She was smiling at him. Just like he had felt, just like he had been able to sense via some ability or connection he hadn't known he possessed. Her big green eyes gazed into his own, and they reflected such an odd mix of childlike wonder and wisdom that almost, _almost _reminded him of Aibou.

Her smile carried only just a hint of sympathy and sadness, but the rest of it was gentle kindness, the sort that he had not expected to receive here. He had received joyous celebrations and things that reminded him of his old days in Egypt, things that he was still trying to fully understand. But he had not expected the soft smiles and care that he had received every day in the world he was now so far from. He had not expected that from someone who had never met his new companions, never for real.

"You can watch over him, too."

Atem blinked and opened his mouth as if to say something, but just froze there as she looked back at him, unable to figure out what to say. He looked at her, and she just smiled back. For a moment she looked so much older, even though he was fairly sure she was younger than him, and so much wiser than she had ever been when he had known her before.

He swallowed, and she tightened her grip on his shoulder still. "You can watch over him … like I watched over you."

She looked away for a moment, around the room they were in, and for a moment he thought she saw something he didn't, for her smile changed. She seemed to see a whole different world than he did, something he felt he would come to see in time, but could not quite see now.

"It won't be easy, not at first," she whispered, so quiet he could barely hear her. "And it won't be like you talked to him before. But … he'll _know _you're there. He's … a part of you. I could always see that. And he's still a part of you now."

Atem stared as she looked back to him, and Mana smiled again, this time in joy and happiness and a kind of hope he had once seen in another's eyes. Someone around the same age—at least in terms of growth—a little shorter, with different skin and hair and eyes. Someone who walked through life trying to make the most of it, even when others shoved him down, even when they told him he could never get where he was trying to go.

He had held on. And he would hold on now.

And Atem would, too.

It would hurt. For him, and for Aibou, he imagined. It would hurt for a long time. But it wouldn't always be there. And the future would come, whether or not they asked for it. And they would rise to meet it, to stand and face the world ahead of them, the pains and the joys, always far away, always close together.

He did not stop his lips when they curled into a smile on his face, and that smile did not falter when he saw her eyes gleam just a little brighter, and her smile shine just a little wider. At last he reached his arm and slipped it around her shoulders as well, pretending they were both real, and pretending that he could hear the laughter of a young boy nearby, showing Atem and himself that everything would be alright.

The stars from the balcony glistened and gleamed, almost as if they were real. And Atem looked at them and at the glowing moon, and he let himself feel the joy of memories, and the joy of being here.

And suddenly the laughter in his head was not so imagined after all, and it shone out in his smile, as he sat there with one friend as he willed all his others to meet their own stories as he took the first step to meet his own.

* * *

><p><em>Pressing his face to the glass of the ship window, the moon and stars glistening outside, Yuugi closed his eyes and smiled.<em>


End file.
